


The Girl

by Nerd5sky



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 09:05:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11986620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerd5sky/pseuds/Nerd5sky





	The Girl

Pacing up and down my cell, I thought back to the events of that day. It was all I could do to keep myself from staring at the crack in the blank, grey ceiling. Why did it happen ? How could I let it happen ? Why did it happen to us? All of these questions have gone through my mind and until only remained. How could I let her die ? Her, a teenage girl, with her whole life ahead of her. Smiling and sweet, angry and passionate. That all ended in those few short days, along with everything else in life. 

It was a warm, sunny afternoon in July. A gentle breeze blew through the trees and around the houses. The quiet jingle of an ice cream van brought joy and happiness to both young and old people, as the summer ensemble of noise, heat, ice cream and cool drinks had finally assembled. The only thing spoiling it was the pack of unruly children charging towards the van, waving notes around and demanding ice cream. I tell you there is nothing more petrifying than angry children demanding something. I hurried around, delivering orders to the animalistic youths whilst their parents sat and laughed. 

That’s how the day went. Children coming up and giving their orders. Me getting what they want and paid just over minimum wage. All day until the sun began to descend. This was my life for the six weeks of freedom I had during the summer. It was the final week of my torturous routine. After serving what must’ve been my thirtieth customer of the day, I looked over and saw a girl, staring out of her window in one of the nearby homes. She looked strange, with sunken eyes and ashen skin. When she noticed me, she withdrew from the window. A few minutes passed and there she was , again, staring at me. With a forced smile, I gave her a wave, walked to the front of the truck, started the engine and drove down the road. That night when I tried to fall asleep, whenever I closed my eyes, the image of that girl appeared in front of me.

The next day I set back to working away at my sanity. There were less people asking today than yesterday and that was the worst thing. I had time to think back to what happened yesterday, and that girls face. I couldn’t get the image of her out of my head. So I did the only thing I thought of. I drove back to the road where I saw her. I stopped on the other side of the road and prepared to serve children. During one of the few respites, I looked over to the same window and saw her again. Instead of just standing there, however, she slowly rose her hand and waved at me. The sleeve of her shirt fell down her arm and revealed bright red lines on her arm. As I watched, blood slowly leaked out of the wounds, down her arm and seeping into her clothes. My own hand raised up and waved back. A noise behind me made me turn. A group of children walked up and yelped their order, distracting me for a few minutes. After I had filled their order and they had left, I looked back and saw that the girl had left. 

Realising I had been there an hour, and that all the people that would ask for ice-cream had already done so, I left to go to a different place, probably a park. As I got into the driver’s seat, I just wondered what to do. I could call the police but what would they do? Just put pressure on a young girl in pain. If I called an ambulance, the doctors would ask how this happened so more pressure on a damaged mind to either reveal the truth or hide a secret everyone else seemed to know. I just kept on thinking about her. I guess most people could’ve have called it an obsession but what else would I do. I started to go to that street at the beginning of the day, just to see her. No one questioned me whenever I came. I was an ice cream man after all. I had done this for a few days now, get there at ten in the morning, spend an hour or two serving the dwindling groups of people and stare at that window. Every time I went I saw her, looking worse. One time, she had a black eye and her cheek had been cut open. Another, she held her side and winced with every movement. The worst was on my second to last visit. Her arm was in a sling and her face was all but covered in bandages. This made me realise that I had to do something. When I got home that night, I packed a bag with med packs, food and drinks. On my way out, a took a knife out from the stand. I hoped I wouldn’t have to use it but whatever that did this to her might still be there and come after him. I slid it into the belt loop of my jeans. For some reason, this all felt like I had done it before. I felt safety and comfort as I gripped the hilt of the stained blade. I left the house for the last time.

The journey to that road seemed to take longer now. I guess I was just nervous, over thinking what could happen there. With the view of her house came a sense of relief. I didn’t know what was going to happen or if I would ever leave the house once I set foot in it, but for some reason I was determined not to let this girl suffer anymore. I parked the rather conspicuous ice cream van outside her front door and jumped out. I creeped towards the rather ordinary door. As I knocked on the door, it slowly creaked open. A small whimper left my mouth. Even though I was trembling and terrified, I opened the door fully and stepped in, unknowing of the dangers waiting within. 

I called down the empty hallway. No reply. I called again. No reply. The floorboards creaked under my weight. Why didn’t I bring a torch? I kept thinking to myself. There were no switches to turn the lights on so I continued my search of the house. Everything seemed wrong. All the furniture was either broken or overturned, the heating was using oil burning heaters instead of electric, the wallpaper was peeling off of the walls and, in some areas, the floor was sticky with blood. The entire ground floor was void of anything that even resembled living. I then searched the first floor and found the same despondent mess as on the ground floor. The second floor, however, was different. Instead of the darkness and the dinginess of the first two floors had been replaced with bright lights and white walls and white draws and white … sheets. In fact, everything in the room was pure white. Apart from the crying girl huddled in the corner. She was in a puddle of her own blood, the only thing that wasn't white. I slowly moved towards her, constantly reassuring her that it was going to be okay. I removed the knife from my waist and laid it carefully on the floor. As I looked up, the girl was staring right back at me. We stared at each other for at least ten seconds until she moved. She was unlike anything I had seen before. She snatched the knife off the floor and nearly killed me had I not stepped backwards. I fell on my back. The knife appearing a few inches away from my face. The girl moved her head next to mine and screamed. She yanked the knife out of the floor and plunged the knife into my back. I howled in pain as the knife was taken out then stabbed straight back in. I counted three times. Three stab wounds. Lots of pain. Lots of blood. The girl stood back up, pulling the knife out of my body. She stood over me for a second before leaving the room. 

I writhed on the floor, blood pouring out of the wounds. Slowly, I stood up, knowing that the more strain I put on my body, the more likely that I would die from the blood loss. I hobbled towards the door, leaving a trail of blood in my wake. I couldn't believe that she had done that. Young girls don't go around stabbing people, do they? It wasn't normal, but then again, nothing was normal about this situation. My disbelief was rapidly replaced with anger. I found where she was with little difficulty. She was sitting with her back facing me. She had left the knife on a table close to the entrance. Close to me. I grasped the hilt of the blade, surged forward towards the girl, yanked her head back and, with one quick movement, slit her throat. I held her head back and allowed the blood to run freely down her ragged clothes. I sat there for a small time, just looking at the girl. I never did know her name. Just then reality caught up with me. I broke down. I sobbed and begged and felt nothing but pain. I didn't mean to kill her. Just make her suffer for stabbing me. 

That is how I ended up in a cell, just lying on my bunk, thinking, thinking how else it could have ended.


End file.
